Well.

"Charlie, you have to go. It's unfair to me if you don't," Mollie was whining about me not going to a typical, drinking, teenage party. I personally would much rather stay home with Michael if you gave me the choice.
But she wasn't, as usual. "Mollie, I may stay home wit Michael. Besides," I paused and checked out my dwindling closet wardrobe. Mom was on a cleaning spree. After Dad died, nothing was dirty ever again. "I have nothing to wear." Of course, I knew Mollie wouldn't let that stand. She would lend me something, or buy me something, or even make me something. Clothe genius is a great quality to have in a best friend.
"Nice try, we both know that that excuse limit ran out a while ago. And what your wearing it fine."
"Well, fine, but when I get dirty looks for wearing holey jeans and a t-shirt, we're leaving," I scowled at Mollie. She smiled at me. Of course, I couldn't be mad at her, so I got over it.

We arrived at the party shortly before ten. It was exactly as I imagined it. A thick haze of smoke, the smell of alcohol, and the feel of hot bodies crowding you. It didn't take me long to find my boyfriend of a year, Michael, already sitting down, with a partially empty beer. Typical Michael.
"Hey, Char," Michael took a drunken step at me. The party hadn't even officially started, and he was already wasted. I had to get him home.
"Michael, you stay here, I mean it." I went off to search for Mollie to let her know that I was leaving soon. Michael couldn't drink anymore before he went unconscious. I had seen him like that before and it wasn't pretty, believe me. Finally I spotted her already kissing a mysterious looking stranger. I went up and told her I had to leave before all hell breaks loose. She huffed and went back to her stranger. As usual.

"Michael, we have to go, now. It's not an option," the way I spoke to him you would've thought he was a two year-old. But he's seventeen. "Rob, can you help me get Michael to my car please? I'll be driving, don't worry," Said that last part for myself. It's not as if anybody cares if Michael were to drink and drive. At our school, it's the norm.
"Sure, but hurry, I really don't want to miss beer pong." Thoughtful as always.

Rob and I carried Michael out to my car who then proceeded to throw up. In my car.
"Hmmmmmh," he mumbled. His eyelids fluttered open and looked curiously around. Of course, Michael had absolutely no idea where he was. His face looked funny at me, probably because my eyes were widening and looking at the oncoming semi speeding towards the passenger side.

Michael was killed on impact. Unfortunately, I had nothing to wear to his funeral, so I had to deal with it.